Time to Pretend
by xwynn
Summary: Neither of them was too sure about any of it to be honest.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter Title: **I Really Just Wanted Some Coffee **or** Curse Your Stupid Face

**Summary:** She wanted coffee. And he's a piece of shit. Simple.

I guess this could be considered a modern AU. I'm not really sure. Valentine's gift for my good friend Laura (sasahara-sohei). I hope you like it dear! Also this is apart of a drabble series (because I want to write a chapter story but I dislike writing long things, do you see my problem?) that connects an odd way. So stay tuned!

Oh and I don't own Soul Eater or any of its characters.

* * *

Maka wasn't exactly the most patient of people. Sure, she had more patience than her idiot of a "god"-brother, but it was a well known fact that she had somewhat of a short fuse in regards to her patience meter.

So the fact that she had been standing behind the same old man (who smelled strongly of prune juice) for the past twenty minutes was...well simply put it was pissing her off. She had even given the elder a few suggestions on what to order for it to fall on (actually quite possible) deaf ears.

And Maka wouldn't haven't even been here, but the quaint cafe was the only place that used those imported coffee beans that brews to delicious perfection that she loves so much. And frankly, being late to her job became less worrisome the longer she stood behind the man, because dammit Maka Albarn did _not _slip and fall in the shower _and_ find that her favorite heels had become a new toy (already complete with scratches) for her cat, to not get a cup of her favorite coffee. And if that damn man stood there for another second; she was going to go back there make her own damn coffee!

Just as she was running a rough hand through her hair in frustration (for probably the one hundredth time) did the old man finally declare his order. And Maka has never been more happy to take one step forward as the elder shuffled off mumbling something about how everything was so advanced nowadays. (And seriously was it even healthy to be giving 80 year olds coffee?)

Finally she's ordering her regular cup of caffeine (no sugar or creamer please) and promptly thrusts money into the cashier's general direction. Except her money wasn't being taken and Maka,being the ever frugal girl she is, was all about free stuff, but uppity cafe's such as this did not just give out free stuff willy nilly like that. She glances at the cashier and at first she thinks nothing of him, until she finally notices that he has white hair.

Like really white.

Like the same white she saw when her mother took her on "vacation" to give her father some "alone time" in the mountains.

She would have been quick to deem him as albino, but his skin sported quite the tan. (Seriously, what is up with this guy?)

But those red eyes of his were staring at her and Maka had no idea where her brain was at but it certainly wasn't with her because she's staring right back at him. And she's sure if Tsubaki was here she would be crooning about love at first sight right now.

And fuck was he smirking at her? Cause she's pretty sure he was. And Maka wanted to wipe that smug look off his handsome-wait_ no_. She didn't just think that. Nope, not all. This guy was the farthest from handsome and if he didn't stop looking at her like he knew some special secret she was going to rearrange that face of his until he even had a possibility of being attractive.

But then he speaks, grunting out his lazy question that whizzed straight past her ears, and she's starting to believe that all that internal ranting about faces and the rearranging of them was for nothing because his teeth are _sharp._

And for some reason this small observation makes her palms sweaty and her toes numb.

"Your name?", he drawls out (later she learns that this what he said the first time when she was too busy shoving money at certain albino-esque cashiers).

Then she blinks. And she blinks again. Then three times until (finally) she actually _hears_ him. Then she's sputtering out a litany of huh's, uh's and oh's as she fumbles over her own damn name! Finally gripping the right syllables on her tongue; she blurts it out before it can escape her.

"Maka."

He writes it down without a second wasted and she's finally getting rid of the bills that she had apparently crinkled in a vice grip that she had no idea she formed.

Then she's waiting again while mentally kicking herself for whatever the hell that was back there, until her name gets called with a side of black coffee. And she's ready to get out of there and to go to work that she's a thousand years late for. Except there's something on the cardboard sleeve of her cup and it vaguely looks like a phone number.

And that's probably because it was.

Maka shoots the cashier a glance and he's smirking at her again, which he makes no effort to hide, until he's back to taking down the next customer's order.

And she's not really sure what came over her, and maybe it was the prune juice fumes getting to her, but she's sliding the sleeve right off her cup, and she can feel those eyes of his staring at her as she tosses the sleeve right into the trashbin.

Maka feel's quite proud of herself for a moment, until she notices something that makes her lips twitch downward.

Hidden under the sleeve of her cup and where her name _should _be is "Angel" in all its mockingly quoted glory. And just when Maka had thought she had seen the last of it, there was _another_ phone number.

She whips her head to him, to glare at him with her already half-assed wrath, except he's grinning, teeth sharp, jagged, and maddeningly distracting plastered on that stupid (stupidly handsome) face of his.

And Maka decides that she despises him.

(But not really.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Title: **A Chance of Circumstance

**Summary: **Maka become a master of denial and gets a date simultaneously

* * *

"Not surprised to see you here, Angel."

Maka almost jumped out of her skin at the voice, the book in her hand flinging to a faraway corner of the book store. Whipping around, she glares at the familiar (and rude) owner of the voice - who had harshly interrupted her (admittedly dull) work.

Though to be honest, she's not that upset at what happened at the cafe. (But she's not going to tell him that.) But the nickname that he had so graciously bestowed upon her, is a whole different manner, and it nicked at her temper with a twitch of a green eye. "I'm sorry, sir, but you must have confused me with someone else."

Turning her attention back to the shelves, she sighs at the books that are (painfully) out of place, and Maka swears that if she catches those damn kids she's gonna take their lunch money.

"Can't forget a face like yours." And Maka can practically hear him smirking behind her back. There's a pause before he starts again. "You still have my number, right?"

She turns to him again and he's leaning on a nearby bookcase, his hands, making a home of the pockets in his sweatpants.

"No," she answers truthfully.

But there was no reason to have it. Maka had stared at the digits for so long, toying with the idea to actually call him or not, that the number had burned into her memory.

He frowns a little, but then his eyes are shining playfully and he's back to his regular self. "Too bad, I heard that some lucky lady could have talked to the coolest guy on earth," and those sharp teeth of his are grinning at her now and his eyes are boring into hers, "Though I guess she still has a chance if she calls right now."

Grabbing a book from the cart beside her, she stares at him. "Whoever she is must be absolutely mad to call that number."

Pushing off the bookshelf and standing to his full height, he rolls those stupid broad shoulders of his before slouching them again. His red eyes glances down at his shoes, hands still shoved in his pockets, and Maka wonders what it would be like to have a look at his thoughts and she's just about to ask him, when his eyes pins her with a vigor she's never seen before. And Maka feels an impending sense of doom.

"Come to lunch with me?"

And she's so stunned by the suddenness of it all, that she can only blink at him. She's sure it was a question, but somehow it feels like a demand, and she's not quite sure how to feel about it.

"What."

"Come to lunch with me," he repeats. And this time it's a statement, she's sure of it.

She shook her head vehemently. "I don't-I don't even know your name dude, _no_."

"Its Soul. Soul Eater Evans."

What kind of name is that anyways? She scoffs mentally, but secretly she likes the ring it has to it.

"Well, don't you have something to do, like oh I don't know - work?"

And he doesn't miss a beat. "I'm off today."

And either he's been stalking her or this was just some weird coincidence of fate or destiny or whatever the hell it was "I don't get a break until two, anyway." And she's sure this would throw him off, there's no way he's going to wait around for three hours.

But he smirks, and Maka deduces that she's absolutely screwed.

"I'll wait."

Little butterflies take flight in her stomach at his words, and she has to stomp them down before one flies out her mouth and make her say something she'll regret.

"I have a couple of errands to run anyway," he reaches a tan arm over her head (giving her quite the view of his toned arms) and produces a thick book, "while I'm here can I borrow this?"

"First of all Soul-" and her stomach flips at the way the name rolls off her tongue, "-this is a bookstore. You don't borrow books. And secondly, you're interrupting my work."

Though he's been 'interrupting' her work ever since he stepped foot in the store, but there's no need to point that out now.

"Ah," he says understandingly, before returning the book to its original site and walking away. She stares at him, silently willing him to hurry up and leave so her heart can return to a normal pace.

Turning back, he grins at her, and she does _not_ blush. Nope, not all.

"See you at two, Maka." She gives a little nod, her mind reeling from the promise of lunch with _him, _as her eyes follow him out the door. It takes her awhile of dumbfounded staring into nothing for her to realize that yes, that was the first time he said her name, and yes she kinda likes the way it sounds.

But only a little.

* * *

**A/N-** I'm not really happy with this, but I was tired of looking at so here it is. Don't ask me about the title either, it popped in my head and I was like 'yo'.

Also reviews make my day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Title:** How To Raise Your Own Temperature A Guide by Maka

**Summary:** Boys and cakes are dangerous when mixed together

* * *

Maka isn't exactly sure what a lunch date entails considering that she's never been on one, but she's sure that it doesn't consist of a single slice of cake at a cramped table in the back corner of the cafe. It lays isolated on the table, between them, trims of chocolate lacing the fudge layers and a plump strawberry laying next to it, to tie it all together. She glances at the cake before her for a sliver of a second, fork raised in her hand, and then she's back to looking at him with skeptical green eyes.

She breaks the silence, interrogating him, "When you _asked_ me to come eat lunch with you-"

(Demanded more like.)

"-I thought it would be more of eating separate lunches, you know instead of this?"

She gestures to the single dessert on the table. He really doesn't expect her to share this with him does he?

He merely shrugs, eyeing the cake. "Well yeah it isn't exactly lunch. But I wanted to buy it for you," he mutters.

A small blush spreads across her cheeks, and she hopes he doesn't notice. But then she cuts her eyes at him, resting the fork down, suspiciousness rolling off of her in waves. "What did you do to it?"

"What? Nothing, why would you even think that?"

"Its drugged, isn't it," she concludes.

Red eyes blink in surprise. As if he would be surprised - he knew. "_Maka_," he says exasperated and shocked.

"There's some date rape drug in there. I _know _it." She continues to accuse, all rational thoughts gone as soon as they sat down.

There's a sound erupting from him, and Maka scowls as he fails to stifle his laughter at her (perfectly reasonable) assumption. "You're such a nerd, Maks. Its just cake. Honest."

He's fast, she notes, scowl somehow managing to deepen at the nickname that so naturally rolled off his tongue like he'd been practicing it for days. Who was he to give her such a nickname? A second one at that. One that actually makes sense. How dare he be so familiar with her after what? Four days? _Four days! _How dare he-!

She pushes the plate closer to him, "Why don't you try it first?"

A white eyebrow rises. "And if I do, then will you eat it?"

"I'll think about it."

He grudgingly lifts a forkful of chocolate cake to his mouth, and yet despite her efforts she can't help but watch - and unknowingly leans in, eyes focused on his lips and the quick swipe of his tongue to clear the frosting.

And she suddenly it feels like she's having her own personal summer.

Her thoughts are terminated as he slides the plate back over with a slight nod, and worried "Are you okay?" at the questionable glaze over her eyes.

She shakes her head to clear the clinging thoughts that refuse to her brain.

"No, you're not okay? Or…"

And just how many escape routes are in here? Because she seriously needs to get the fuck out before she bursts into her flames over her own thoughts about the clearly _not_-attractive guy in front of her.

"No...I don't want any cake." Yeah, thats a good excuse, nobody has to know that she's about ten seconds away from keeling over.

He plunges his fork into the cake before shoving in front of her own lips, singing teasingly, "You know want some~"

Maka freezes because she realizes two things:

1)That's his fork. He used that fork

2)That would be, basically, indirect kissing.

(And the third might have to do with slight interest of kissing him, but of course she chooses to ignore that one. )

"No," she pushes his hand away. "That fork has your spit on it."

And he has the audacity to roll his eyes as if she's the one being ridiculous! "You can't even taste it."

"Thats not even the po-"

Soul being the deviously determined guy he is, takes the chance of her open mouth and dives the fork in, effectively force feeding her the cake. She glares at him, but bites down anyway- because if she was to remove the intruding fork, full of cake and all, it would be covered in her saliva and her mother has taught her better table manners than to just be gross.

That would be her brother's job.

So yeah. She eats it.

It's fluffy and soft, and oh so sweet and damn it, she'd hate to admit it, but it's probably the best cake she's ever had. But, she sadly realizes, that's there no reason to admit anything because if Soul's grin means anything, she knows he's already aware that she's eating a piece of heaven.

(And christ did it just get twelve degrees hotter?)

"Patti makes the best cakes," he states, waving at the short blonde behind the counter. She smiles sinisterly at him, as if she knows something she doesn't, and raises a sharpened knife in a wave. "You like it right?"

Maka doesn't look at him and takes the fork from him and guides another piece to her lips. Someone has to finish it right? She's certainly not gonna let it go to waste or anything. And oh gosh why does it have to be so good; she's such a messy eater, _there's frosting on her face. _This is why she doesn't eat in public.

(Someone just come and haul her away, please. Like, right now.)

Soul chuckles, pointing a finger at her lips, "You got a lil something on your face."

She goes to swipe at it but misses, embarrassed nervousness snatching up her gracefulness and discarding somewhere she'll never find it.

"Here, lemme just," Soul gingerly takes her hand, singling out her pointer finger between his own fingers and uses it to wipe it against her lips dropping it when he's satisfied that the mess is gone.

"I'll, uh, my treat next time," she stammers, mentally cringing at her self-inflicted humiliation.

A small smile spreads across his lips, that doesn't go unnoticed by Maka. "Sometime soon?

She allows a small smile of her own in return, "Yeah, sometime soon."

(But seriously, why is so hot in here?)

* * *

**A/N- **My apologies for the slow update but I was busy then I lost motivation then I hit a writer's block and yeah. Updates should be much more frequent now. Thank you for your patience.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Tittle: **Couldn't Get a Kick in a Stampede

**Summary: **Rain can make people sad, ya know?

* * *

_Drip._

Maka doesn't care that people are staring at her like she had trees growing out of her hair.

_Drip._

She doesn't care that this is the first time she's seen Soul so stunned, standing there with blank red and eyes and mouth agape.

_Drip._

No, she doesn't care about any of that. All she cares about is finding a nice quiet, warm place and getting some coffee so she can curl up and wither away-

"Christ, you're melting," he comments, eyeing the steadily increasing puddle on the floor. And Maka really would have punched him in the face for saying something so absurd, but instead she squeezes the water out of her pigtails to add to the puddle. There's a million things she could have said to counter him, but right now she just can't.

So, she looks up at him, with her lips jutting out in a pout and outright miserable. "I am very sad right now," she says bluntly.

"What happened?" He steps out from the counter, untying his apron and discarding it haphazardly, before placing his hand on her shoulders. And if this was any other day, she would have shoved his hands off and asked who the hell he thought he was, but she's not exactly thinking straight at the moment. She wonders why the hell she came to him in the first place in such a dire situation.

Oh right, coffee.

She really should have said 'nothing', get her caffeine and be on her merry way to work, where she'll get even more stares and DAMN KIM FOR NOT BEING HER WHEN SHE REALLY NEEDS HER. Screw her for going to Disneyland with her not-girlfriend (she's so in denial) and leaving Maka here to fend off the cruel world who's out to get her.

But no, of course, things don't go the way she wants, cause she just so happens to have the worst luck in the whole entire universe. She just _has _to spill her heart to this guy who she barely even knows. And honestly, it probably has to do with all the heartbreakingly sad movies she's been binge watching with Tsubaki, plus her favorite character just died in the book she's reading, but she's about to cry herself into an ocean of tears and she just _really_ needs to get this off her chest.

Trembling uncontrollably, Maka takes a deep breath and bombards Soul with, "My car is in the shop right now, so I had to walk to work, and walking's not bad, but I live kinda far so it _is_ bad, and usually I'd ride with Kim but nooo, she'd just have to go to Disneyworld with that girl to make out, so yeah I'm walking no problem, but then it starts raining, and like what the fuck, we practically live in the fucking desert, SO WHY IS IT RAINING, and then I stop to look at this weird puddle, cause it looks to be really deep and I can't tell, and that's really weird ya know, but then some kid rides past on his skateboard and pushes me in that stupid puddle, which turns out to be like two feet deep, and I'm wearing a white shirt today, and I don't if you're aware of the working of shirts and bras but that means my bra is visible, to literally everyone, and I can't walk back home cause its too far, but I don't have any extra clothes, and-"

Her ramblings are cut off when he pulls her into a hug, and she can feel people staring, and her wet clothes make her highly uncomfortable, but for some reason, she doesn't want him to let go.

He sighs deeply and speaks into her hair, "Your life really sucks." Not exactly the most comforting words but okay.

But she can't just lose the last shred of her dignity so easily and just admit that she's very much enjoying this needed form of human contact, so she asks, "What're are you doing?"

"What'd ya think I'm doing? I'm giving you a hug, you nerd." He laughs a little, and she starts to pull away, only to be gripped tighter. "Nope, you need a hug. Its happening."

She rolls her eyes at him, happy he can't see her blushing face and _possibly_ feeling better. Then suddenly he's pulling away (she's not disappointed, nope, no way) and grabs her hand, leading her to the back of the cafe, suddenly coming to a halt. Putting his hands on his hips, Soul looks about the room, never turning around to face her. And she's just about to ask what the hell he's doing when he proceeds to take his shirt off. Yeah, Maka's freaking out a bit because this seems to be the intro straight out of some porno or the fact that he took off his shirt and the way his muscles ripple from each tiny movement makes her kind of giddy.

But when he throws her his tshirt, that lands right atop her head, she can only feel confusion, as he stands there shirtless with his hands shoved into his pockets.

When he doesn't hear her move to do anything, he mutters, "Your shirt is see-through."

And somehow between hugging and the taking off of shirts did she forget just how visible she was to the world. She's never changed her clothes so fast before because that means he saw it. He saw her bra. OH GOSH, HE WITNESSED THE BRA HER STUPID HELLO KITTY BRA THAT NO ONE'S SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT.

She wiggles into the shirt; its way too big for her, but it's warm from his body heat and she's feels quite comfortable in it. He turns around and puts a small towel on her head and he chuckles, probably because she looks absolutely ridiculous.

Maka stiffens and she eyes the giant scar the runs diagonally across his torso, but she doesn't question it, and he looks really grateful.

"Thank you," she mumbles, pulling up the collar of his shirt, snuggling into it.

Then he gives her a crooked smile, "So-you're a big Hello Kitty fan, huh?"

"SHUT UP, IT WAS ON SALE."

,

,

,

(So what if his shirt smells good, it's not like she was sniffing it or anything.)

* * *

**A/N- **This fic is incredibly self-indulgent and nobody should take it seriously.

Insert obligatory 'please review' here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Title:** This Means War

**Summary:** He's a crafty one alright

* * *

"Ugh, this is so unfair."

Face pressed longingly against the glass of the windows, Maka groans and rubs the surface lovingly. Oh the pain of living with minimum wage.

Another face appears next to her, eyes filled with curiosity….and malevolent intentions. Probably. Most likely. She knows it's there.

Maka pushes the head of white hair away, because seriously, this guy has no concept of personal space.

(Not that she's really complaining.)

"3DS?" Soul inquires, raising those stupidly groomed eyebrows at her. Really, the guy's eyebrows are perfect.

"Yes," she sighs. "And it shall be mine next paycheck."

"Really?"

Maka's eyes narrow. There's something about the way he said it, that makes her wanna punch him in the face. But alas, she's the better person here, so she will refrain from wasting time on petty arguments with sharks of the likes of him. She'll just walk away…

And of course, he follows her into the store.

He must have caught wind of her evil eyes piercing at the side of his head, because he puts a hand on her shoulder.

(Seriously. Personal space is completely nonexistent to him.)

"Chill, I'm just here to buy a game."

Oh. _Yeah right._

"A likely story." Maka comments before walking off to browse the game selection.

She has an ingenious plan, courtesy of the amazing strategist of Maka Albarn:

1) Get paid, minimum wage.

2) Purchase outlandishly great 3DS

3) Purchase Pokemon Alpa Sapphire

4) Live happily ever after with her new 3DS and pokemon family

In-fucking-genious.

"Hey, Maks-"

"Ssh. Don't speak." Maka inhales and takes one last lingering look at the game before returning it to its stand with much difficulty. "Alright, what is it?"

Soul offers her a crooked smile. There is absolutely no good that can from that cute-wait, scratch that-stupid, stupid smile.

"I'll buy you any game that you want, if you can beat me in a round of whatever demo they have."

An eyebrow raises. "That sounds sketchy."

"I'm serious."

"Really?"

"_Really._"

She blows a raspberry and mumbles, "Fine, And if I lose?" And there's seriously no way that's she gonna lose. Maka Albarn does not lose.

"You gotta, uh, you gotta say that I am the coolest guy in the universe, and that you are the biggest nerd in all of history."

"Are you serious right now?"

And HE calls her the nerd.

"..."

"Deal, whatever. Its not like I'm gonna lose anyway."

"In your dreams, Angel."

Oh, he SO going down.

….And the game so happens to be Cooking Mama. Great. She's already got the win.

Nothing's hard so far. Just washing some rice, easy really- til she spills the rice. Fantastic. Well at least Soul sucks at this game. No sweat, she's still got this. Yeah, she's getting better. And Maka is feeling so smug at the moment. There is no possible way that her score is going to be lower than his, as long as she can just…

"You're the type to wear lace aren't' you?"

And did he just comment on her choice of underwear? More importantly, he just made her spill _everything._

"You ass!" She screeches, stabbing him in the side with the Wii remote. He's laughing loudly, and yeah who, really cares if it's a really nice laugh, HE'S FINDING JOY IN HER MISERY.

She's just about to release an onslaught of stabs ('LOSER' flashing on the side of her screen that _he _caused) when Soul pulls something from his back and places it in her murderous, little hands.

"What's this?"

"For you," he shrugs.

Maka quickly removes the bag, and-_hello_. It's Sapphire and it is beautiful.

She hugs it tightly to her chest and stares up at Soul, no idea on what to say. "Thank-thank you?! But why?"

"Too see your reaction." He shrugs. "A'ight," he pats her on the head and she lets him. "Time for work, I'll see you around, Maks."

He leaves.

And then he pops his head back in, "You owe praise _and _cake now."

Oh, well played, Evans. Well played.

,

,

,

(Step 2 of the plan shall be revised. Purchase outlandishly great 3DS and name it 'Soul'. He should be _so _grateful.)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Title: Mmm Watcha Say

Summary: The woes of boredom

* * *

"I'm bored."

Maka whines, kicking her feet that don't quite reach the floor underneath the wobbly table. Careful, though as to not stub her sandaled feet on the pole.

And either Soul has failed to hear her cry for help or he has simply chosen to ignore her. But either way, he's all green apron, black tee, and grumpy scowling. Like always.

"Soul!" She whisper yells, but of course he's busy, you know, doing his job. And she knows it. But a girl can hope. She ignores the fact that she's here way too often, and the excuse of the cafe being convenient is virtually useless as it's pretty much across the entire shopping center from where she works.

"You can be so whiny sometimes, you know that?"

Maka almost rejoices at the familiar voice, ignoring his comment, and immediately ceases her mini-tantrum as Soul joins her in the seat across.

He takes a sip of pink lemonade and pauses, eyes staring off at nothing in particular. "The table wobbles."

"No shit, sherlock."

He frowns at her, opening his mouth to retort only to be cut off.

"Entertain me." Maka demands, reaching across the table to steal his lemonade. He makes good drinks, okay, It's like his measuring and mixing skills are beyond average human capability. Or something. She doesn't know.

"Get your own drink, greedy." He pouts a little, and she almost wants to pinch his cheeks. _Almost._

"Then go make me one."

His eyebrow raises. "Are you gonna pay for it?"

Maka's nose scrunches up. "Hhhm yes, let me just go get in line and pay for a drink instead of getting a perfectly free one right here. Yeah, no." She deadpans.

"Then, no." Soul rolls his eyes at her playfully and quickly retrieves his lemonade from her clutches.

"I bet your house smells bad." Yeah, she's getting petty. What of it.

He scowls. "My place smells like Febreeze and nice homey smells, okay. It is fragrant like fresh laundry and you are just jealous."

"Nope. I'm gonna buy you some scented candles, ones like petrichor and campfire and oakwood. I'll buy you some every once in a while, and then we'll light them up all at once, and your house will smell like one convoluted mess of outdoors." Her eyes meets his and they shine with enthusiasm. "It'll be great."

Soul snorts and laughs a little, probably speechless because her idea is so amazing and wonderful. He totally wishes he could have thought of that.

"You should quit your job," he then muses aloud, stirring his ice with the straw.

Maka gives him a pointed look, because what the fuck is that supposed to mean.

"Okay...why?"

"So you can come work here with me." He gives her the most heart-wrenchingly adorable sad puppy dog face, she's ever laid eyes on, and she may have just died a little.

,

,

,

(She can always skip an hour of work. Or a few. Maybe more.)

* * *

(Hella short chapter I know, but the point of this fic was to write connecting drabbles was is not?)

The fic is coming to an end very soon people, there's only a few chapters left, just a heads up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Title:** Questions

**Summary:** He really confuses her sometimes

* * *

Sometimes, Soul can be a real sweetheart.

And sometimes, Maka finds it rather difficult to keep a straight face around him. And then she asks herself, over and over again, how he managed to deceive her into skipping work the other day. He must have hypnotized her with his eyes, she concludes.

(It's incredibly hard not to get lost in them.)

She suddenly pauses in her work, reorganizing the romance novels, and stomps her foot, hard.

Why that cunning, devious, manipulative…

"Hey, Maka."

Oh, look speak of the devil. Its Soul, and he's about to get the lecture of a lifetime. No, he will not hear the end of it, because it's entirely his fault she was _that_ close to losing her job, and that means no more money, and she obviously can't afford that.

Maka readies her scolding voice, the one that's been used on her brother when he skipped class in grade school, clearing her throat with a series of light coughs. _Deep breath, in and out._

"Soul, you better listen, because—"

He grabs her hand mid sentence and places a cup of passion tango tea in it, gently guiding her fingers for a better grip.

"—you are just a really great guy, seriously, thanks."

This is _exactly_ what she means when he gets all sweet on her, and honestly, it scares the shit out of Maka. Like, how can he make her feel irritated one moment and all smiles and giddiness the next?

She'll have to proceed with the utmost caution.

But in the mean time…

Maka immediately starts sucking the life out of the drink, not really caring if she looks like a survivor of the desert. (Which she essentially is, in a way.) So what if he basically bribed her—it definitely worked."

"Is this free, by the way?" She asks in between greedy sips.

The corners of Soul's lips curl upward. "For me,yes. For you—"

She _swears_ there's a glint in his eye.

"—No."

Fuck.

"How much then?" She resists the strong urge to give him her best puppy dog pout and swallows her attempt to guilt trip him into a free drink.

There's a short pause before he answers. "I'll give you the drink,_if_, you play a game with me first."

Maka gives him a pointed look. "But I'm working." Obviously.

"C'mon just twenty questions, then."

Oh great, the game of fuckboys. She suppresses the urge to groan and roll her eyes. She should have known, Soul is a boy after all.

"Too many," she says, giving him a chance to redeem himself nonetheless.

"Ten?"

"Five."

"Five?"

"Would you prefer none?"

He frowns and crosses his arms. "Fine. Five it is. I'll start. What's your last name?"

A blonde eyebrow shoots heavenward, surprised at his rather bland question.

"Albarn," she answers anyway. "Eater?"

"Just a nickname," he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Interesting," she rubs her chin, and by now the books on the shelf is long forgotten. "Why did you even come here?"

He has the gall to roll _his _eyes. "Obviously to buy books on how to get away with kidnap." He replies with a completely straight face. Is this a joke? Or should she be running for the hills at 50 miles per hour? "And," he continues, "That doesn't even count as an answer, cause that was a total waste of a question. I hope you're proud of yourself Maka Albarn.

She decides to heave an exasperated sigh at his comment.

"Alrighty then, ask away, Mister Expert-At-Asking-Stupid-Questions."

"That," he points at her. "was rude. Also when am I gonna get my rightfully earned grovelling?"

What was that.

Did he just say what she thinks he said, because hello, that was seriously random. And weird. And not exactly something she would like to remember. She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. He is completely hopeless, staring at her, as if she is obligated to provide such idiotic information. She blinks at him.

And then she gets an idea. (They're good ideas. Okay. Mostly.)

Maka rummages around in her pocket and grabs his hand, facing the palm upward. She then places a single thimble in his outstretched palm, internally giggling at her clever (dorky) gesture.

Soul looks at it, then glances at her. "Why do you even have this with you?"

Tsubaki was teaching her how to sew before work, because well...it's none of his damned business, that's why.

"Also you suck at this game, I'm taking my drink back. Soul shoots her a devilish grin before pulling the cup from her hands and guiding the straw to his upturned lips. Oh, he _so_ did not.

How cruel of him. Seriously.

Then, he suddenly takes her by the hand, dragging her toward the exit of the bookstore. "C'mon—lets go an _adventure_."

Maka's jaw drops, because uh, what. "Huh? But my lunch break is only an hour long and—_where are we going?"_

Soul looks back and offers her a crooked smile, which could seriously mean _anything._

"_Second star to the right and straight on til morning._" He recites, laughing at her shocked, and probably stupid expression. "_That, _said Soul to Maka, _is the way to Neverland._"

She stares at him a while longer, before she tugs on his hand, his lips still curved in a smile. "You,Soul Eater Evans, are the coolest guy in the universe, and I, Maka Albarn, am the biggest nerd in all of history."

,

,

,

(Its because she owed him one, okay. Besides, he countered her peter pan reference with a better peter pan reference. It was well deserved.)

* * *

**A/N-**(I watched Peter Pan for like the first time in a decade the other day. Also I have no idea what I'm doing anymore but you can probably already tell that sooo)

Review? Review.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Title:** Disappointments

**Chapter Summary:** Expectations are one hell of a thing

* * *

"I hope this isn't your idea of an 'adventure'."

Maka is disappointed. Immensely so.

The pair is standing in the middle of the shopping center, smack dab in the food court, Soul's hands shoved precariously in his pockets, and Maka's two seconds from going batshit crazy because _hello_, she kind of just walked out on her job to spend her only lunch hour with this (sometimes adorable, but not really) idiot, and now they've been standing here doing absolutely nothing for the past ten minutes. Ten minutes of her life, wasted.

_Let's go on an adventure_, he said. _It'll be fun,_ he said.

Lies. All of it. Complete and utter bullshit!

And suddenly she wants to take back her words, because no amount of cute and fluffy Peter Pan quotes can appease her right now. NONE.

Soul finally sighs, slapping a palm on his forehead. He peeks at her at her uncertainly, probably scared because her wrath can be felt on the other side of the motherfucking planet, and says, "I didn't actually think you'd come along with me, so… yeah."

She probably has the biggest 'what the fuck' face right now.

"But yet you'd dragged me, in a vice grip, all the way here."

"Hey, I was going with the flow."

"To the food court." She scoffs. This is funny. No, really, it is.

"Hey," he pokes her forehead to make his point, "You can have lots of fun at the food court, so you hush, you… party pooper."

Maka presses her lips in a hard, thin line, swatting his hand away. "Okay, I'm gonna ignore the 'party pooper' thing, which is completely uncalled for thank you very much. So what do you suggest we do now, Mr. The Food Court Is Fun?"

Then, he turns on her, face bright and glowing, all he was missing was the light bulb above his head. "Buy me some cake."

She pauses, and nothing is said for a good minute or so. When it becomes clear he has no intention of explaining himself, Maka blows stray hair from her eyes, and pulls her wallet out.

(It's a cool Legend of Zelda design. Limited edition. Yeah, she knows.)

He wants her to buy him cake. Cool, that's easy. Why didn't he just-

"Now wait a goddamn minute!"she exclaims, surprising Soul who jumped slightly from beside her. The wallet is then shoved back in her pocket, though it looks more awkward than she would have liked, trying extremely hard to fit in her tight, tight pants. (Damn you, skinny jeans, damn you!) "Why should I?"

"You owe me." He shrugs, all that he has to say to her argument.

"I already gave you what you wanted—was that not good enough?" Maka whined, stomping her foot like a child.

He laughs. _LAUGHS._ That ingrate!

"One, that was _hardly_ what I call groveling, but it was okay," he pats her head with affection (more like a pet, actually) and she is officially at a loss for words. "And two, there's no rule that forbids you paying debts in one day. So yeah, cake."

She gives him a half hearted dirty glare. "If I ever write a book, it's gonna be a horror, and I will make sure you die a horrible death."

Maka watches as his lips curl up in amusement. "You sure you're not gonna write one of those romances?" He raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Like the ones on the shelf earlier."

"No!" She reels back, appalled, sputtering and blabbering. Those romance books featured half naked men with even more nude women on them. How it wasn't porn she doesn't know. "I'm not into reading, or writing, porn, thank you very much."

"But it's...intellectual porn!"

She gives him a look, because really. _Really._

"Soul, don't use words you don't mean."

He pouts a little, whimpering, "Why are you so mean to me?" In a fleeting bold moment, Maka steps closer to him, nearly sharing the same air, arms brushing. Soul doesn't have time to react, when she grabs a fistful of his shirt, tugging him down to her. His lips hover above her own, but she never lets them touch, she's smiling extremely hard no matter how much she doesn't want to at how utterly helpless he is. "Now this is intellectual porn."

His eyes squeeze shut, and suddenly she's gone. His eyes flutter open, cheeks stained a considerable red.

"C'mon," she manages through her snorts and giggles, extending a hand toward him. "Let's go get you some cake."

Soul visibly sulks, but takes her hand anyway. Maka flashes him a wide, innocent smile, that starkly contrasts with her actions.

,

,

,

(It scares her how much she didn't mind doing that, or why she even did in the first place.)

* * *

**A/N-** So I'm waaaaaaaaaaay behind with this chapter (my bad). But in my defense I was working on Resbang and school just started again. (If you're not familiar with Resbang just visit resbang dot tumblr dot com to find out more).

But to make it up to you (if anyone is still actually reading this story) the next (and final) chapter will be up by Saturday. Promise. Also I really like gamer Maka if you couldn't tell.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Title:** Surprises

**Chapter Summary:** The power of clothes

* * *

Maka thinks it's rather nice to go shopping with friends. It's been awhile since she even had enough extra money to entertain the idea (the 3DS can wait because there are just some things that are necessary in this world), but when she did the math once, twice, and then three times, she joyously allowed herself to step into the clothing store (besides you can't go shopping without buying something, it's simply impossible).

"This is really cute, isn't it?" Maka grabs a pastel colored top from a rack and puts it up to herself, while simultaneously glaring at the girl hogging the mirror to move the fuck out of the way.

"I guess…" Soul rubs the back of his neck with an expression of absolute bliss and enthusiasm and—just kidding. He looks terribly bored, and Maka is pretty sure he regrets agreeing to go shopping with her. She snorts. Oh well, not her problem.

"Wow Soul, try not to make it look like somebody stabbed you in the foot." She makes her way to a table of lingerie, and he wordlessly follows but heaves a heavy sigh. It's totally on purpose—as if she wouldn't notice. No one sighs that loud, Soul. NO ONE.

As she rummages around through the remains of feminine undergarments, Soul casually picks up a flower printed bra with a single finger, dangling it precariously between them.

Maka narrows her eyes because he has that _look _again, and she has to ready her face-punching fists in case he decides to say something incredibly idiotic and deserving of it.

He lets his eyes rove all over her body, and no, she did not shiver. Not all in the slightest. "What are you, Maka? A C-cup?"

She scoffs and rolls green eyes, fighting the heat in her cheeks because no no no DO NOT give him the satisfaction DON'T—

"Don't give yourself too much credit Soul, you're a double A at most," comes a new voice, unfamiliar, and wow did they just say something moderately insulting to her Soul?

(Did she just really refer to him as 'her' Soul, like seriously, get a grip Maka.)

"Ughhh, go away Liz," he makes a face at the dark blonde woman who just nonchalantly invites herself into their bubble. Instead of retorting, she ignores Soul (wow rude much) and turn to face Maka.

"Hey, I'm Liz, and I think you're pretty cute," she waves at Maka and shrugs, sounding like it wasn't the least bit weird to call someone you just met attractive.

She wants to say something, anything, but instead chokes on her spit (real smooth, Maka). Soul puts his hands on her shoulders, and yeah sure, it would be nice, except he's squeezing kind hard, and it's kinda uncomfortable.

"Okay, we're leaving now, have fun flirting with old men, Liz, BYE," Soul all but shoves her in the opposite direction of a smug-looking Liz, and Maka has to slap at her hands several times to get out of his grasp.

"Oh no you don't, I don't know what kind of issue you have with that girl, but I am not leaving until I try this shirt on," she hold up blue tank top for him to see. It's cute. Super cute. He's a fashionista, he should understand.

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of Liz, and replies, "Why don't you just buy it?"

"_Because_ what if I don't like how it fits on me?"

He gives her 'are you kidding me' face, almost pouting, "Well I don't like it."

Her face scrunches in angry surprise, because _wow did he really just say that, rude seriously._ "Oh fuck off—it's seriously cute!"

"But they're…." He fiddles with the fabric. "Noodle straps, or whatever."

She stares at him. Then frowns and blinks because, _wait what?_

"Noodle? Noodle straps, Soul, noodle straps?" She asks. "Noodle str—you mean spaghetti straps?"

"Yeah, that! Whatever, I was close."

"No you wasn't," she sighs. "What's wrong with spaghetti straps, anyway?"

Soul shrugs, throwing a hand out, gesturing to her. "I' dunno, its….shoulders?" He says dumbly.

"Seriously? What century do you live in, Soul?" Maka laughs herself in twisted amusement and heads to the dressing rooms. He opens his mouth to protest, but she only walks faster, weaving through people and racks.

In the privacy of the fitting rooms, Maka quickly removes her current shirt and slips on the blue top, twirling around to examine it in the mirror. Oh yeah, this is definitely going to be hers.

Just as she is about to pull it off, fingers touching the hem, her curtain is, the curtain is yanked open forcefully. She bites her tongue to silence the upcoming scream, hands flying up to cover her (still-clothed) boobs.

"OH MY SWEET FUCKING GOD, SOUL, _what are you doing?"_

He doesn't answer. Instead, Soul hastily steps closer (oh yeah, come right in, don't even bother asking) closes the curtain with one hand and stares at her with piercing red eyes.

Don't melt, christ, DON'T MELT.

He steps into her space, and she takes a step back only to be stopped by the wall. "Hey, Maks," his intense gaze meets her, petrified. "I think…I may… I think I might like you. A lot."

Holy shit. Holy motherfucking SHIT.

Alright, well there is a time and a place for everything…

Soul is standing so close, and god she can smell him, and it's completely amazing (okay that's a little creepy of her) and and and—

"Well do you—do you think maybe you might like me a—

It's too much. It's just all too much for her to handle: Soul's proximity, Soul's eyes, Soul's scent, Soul's sudden confession that makes her insides do weird little flip flops because maybe, just maybe she _does _like him too. And so she grabs his face, bringing it down, and kisses him.

It starts out soft and delicate (they're both probably too scared), but then his tongue, warm and timid, brushes her bottom lip, and she lets out a small strangled sound. At this, Soul's kisses are rougher, harder, almost desperate, and Maka's mind shuts down because she doesn't want to think about where they are, what they're doing. She only wants to _feel _him.

She's vaguely aware that his hands are everywhere: cupping his face, stroking her hair, running up and down her arms, teasing the hem of her shirt, on her waist, and then back to her face again. Her fingers thread through snowy white tresses, massaging and raking, heart beating wildly at the low growl in the back of his throat.

When they finally pull apart, breathing hard, Maka throws out her pride and pulls him closer into a hug, wounding her arms tightly around his neck. There's a thundering pulse in her ears, but she isn't sure if it's his or her owns.

"That's a yes, by the way," she whispers. "That I like you too, I mean."

He pauses in his heavy breathing to pull back, and she almost dies at the sight of his big ass grin. She contemplates saying 'just kidding' and then kicking him out just to wipe that shit-eating grin off his pretty, little face, but all thoughts immediately dissolve when he leans back down to kiss and nibble her lips.

Yeah, they're still in the dressing room, and he is still randomly romantic enough to give her a heart attack, but whatever.

"The shirt looks good on you by the way," he manages through kisses. Maka can't help but smile hard against his lips.

'

'

'

(She made out of her friend-but-more (boyfriend?) with white hair in a dressing room. Top that, Kim.)

* * *

**A/N-** And that concludes Time to Pretend! This chapter is by far my favorite to write, because smooches featuring pansexual Liz. If you like my writing, I'll be working on my Resbang story for the rest of the year, so there will be no new things until that is published, other than the occasional oneshot or written prompt (keep an eye out on 'Flying Into The Sun or on my tumblr if you want to keep up with my writing).

A big thank you to all those who have favorited this story, requested alerts on this story, and even bigger thank you to those who have reviewed. Your feedback is always valuable. The hugest thank you to 'Of Heartmates and Soulbeats' who has reviewed on practically every chapter (I love you).

If you liked this chapter/story let me know by leaving me a review! If you hated it I want to know that too!

(sorry for the incredibly long note, wynnie out)


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